The Marked Daughter
by VioletRose136
Summary: AU; Modern. Sent to Scotland with her brother, Morgana expects to feel more alone than ever before. Yet, she finds herself being drawn into the strange, magical world of Rothcastor Academy, and the even stranger world of Merlin Emrys, a boy more powerful - and more cursed - than she ever could have imagined. This is a story of love, magic and finding home.


Author's note: Hey guys!

This is... I'm not sure what it is. I started writing it at eight last night, and it's now two-fifteen in the morning, I have to be up for ten and I have roughly 4.5K words of a first chapter to share with you. It's modern, and all human... sort of. There's magic in it, but it's not specifically tied to Arthurian legends. I've mostly just picked up the characters and set them down where I want them.

I hope you like this. Please review!

Yrs,

VioletRose136

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

 _I don't think we're in London anymore, Toto._

Morgana Pendragon stared out of the car window dejectedly. Whizzing by outside were picture-perfect scenes that belonged on postcards, or maybe in some 1940s Christmas movie. They didn't however; she felt, belong in her own life. They belonged as far away from her life as was physically possible. She switched the song on her iPod over to some fast-paced song by an Irish band she liked, and looked over at her twin brother Arthur. He sat on the other side of the car, his head down, staring at his phone. As she watched, he turned it vertically and tapped at the back, as if doing so would somehow inspire a satellite far above their heads to start providing reception it was clearly not providing. She sighed, and went back to looking out the window.

The road their father, Uther, had turned down was small—so small, that Morgana found herself wondering if it was even big enough for the car, or if they would end up driving on the muddy field. Ahead Morgana could see towering spirals that before she had only seen online and in the prospectus. They were almost there. A tight knot of dread settled in her stomach, and Morgana sighed.

It hadn't always been like this. A few years ago it had been cheerful, even. A few years ago, before their mother had left and before their father had gotten his new job in New York and before he had decided to leave his children alone in Scotland while he fucked off to the United States. Three years ago, Morgana would be coming home from school with her violin in one hand and satchel in the other. Arthur would be beside her, covered in mud from his recent football match. Ygraine would meet them in the kitchen, tut at Arthur's clothing and offer them a cup of tea. She and Arthur would tease each other about which side was up on their chocolate digestives (the chocolate was on the bottom, for the record) and they would be _happy_. It would all be _okay_.

It hadn't been okay in a long time.

Biting her lip, Morgana pushed away thoughts of the dreadful afternoon when she and Arthur had come home to find their mother gone. She changed the song on her iPod again, turning the volume louder. Her father cast an annoyed glance in the rear-view mirror, but she ignored it. Arthur didn't even look up. After a few minutes, Uther turned off the small-twisting path and onto a gravel road that led up to some wrought iron gates that looked like something out of a Victorian ghost story. The gates stood wide open, but Morgana could see that they could be locked and bolted when desired.

The drive was impressive, but Morgana's eyed bore into the headrest in front of her. She did not want to look at, or think about, anything else. Had she looked up, she would have seen her new home: a strange morph of a manor house and a castle, it stood back against a forest. The main door was impressive and foreboding, the archway stretching several feet above Morgana's head. Uther stopped right in front of it, forcing Morgana and Arthur to finally accept the reality of their situation. It was silent for several long moments. Arthur turned off his phone, and, after hesitating; Morgana took off her headphones and paused her iPod.

"Right," Uther said, breaking the silence that had lasted since they had left London. For the first time since he had announced their departure to boarding school, he sounded somewhat unsure of himself. "Shall we find someone who can come and help you sort your bags and take them to your room?"

Neither of his children answered, they didn't have to. Without another word, he got out of the car and headed to the door, but before he had reached it, the door swung open and two boys emerged: one dark haired, and the other ginger. The ginger, clearly a Head Boy-type immediately shook Uther's hand and began babbling about how happy he was to see him. The dark-haired boy hung back, but not with uncertainty. As Morgana watched from the car window, a faint smile spread across the dark-haired one's lips. Clearly he was used to the ginger one's Good Boy ways.

"Well," Arthur said, startling Morgana. "We can't stay in the car forever. C'mon."

Without waiting for her to reply, Arthur opened his car door as wide as it would go, and stepped out onto the gravel. He headed around to the boot of the car to remove their bags, setting them onto the gravel behind the car. Morgana stole one last glance at herself in her father's rear-view mirror, and followed him. The dark-haired guy saw them emerge, and started walking towards them, hand outstretched. He reached Morgana first, and smiled broadly.

"I'm Merlin, hello." She took his hand and shook it. "Welcome to Rothcastor Academy, the oldest and probably coldest school in Scotland." His eyes glanced from Morgana to her brother. "I-I mean, it's freezing up here. It's not a _cold_ school, not as in _mean_. We're all quite friendly, you see. I mean, some of us are entirely bonkers, and I'd never trust a Year Nine who's out of bed before eleven on a weekend, but it's an alright place to be."

Morgana cracked a smile at Merlin's awkward chattering. Beside her, Arthur rolled his eyes and she resisted the urge to kick him. He was only being nice to them. "Why shouldn't we trust them?" She asked.

Merlin grinned, his eyes dancing in a way that made her like him. There were lines around his eyes too, from smiling. It was something you didn't usually see on someone his age. Morgana liked it. "Would you trust a teenager who didn't take full advantage of the chance to sleep?" He asked, as his ginger-haired companion stepped up to them, Uther at his side.

"Hello," He said grinning from Arthur to Morgana. Arthur remained sullen-faced, but Morgana smiled. It wasn't Merlin's or the ginger-haired-guy's fault that she and her brother both desperately didn't want to be there. "I'm Leon Heywood, the Head Boy. Headmaster Wright has asked me to see you both to your dorm rooms and to see that you're settled in. Merlin Emrys here is my Deputy, and he's going to help carry your bags as well. Sir, would you like to come in? The headmaster is available for tea if you should wish to have a refreshment before you go."

Morgana could not help but smirk at Leon's obvious self-importance. _You scream public school,_ she thought uncharitably, _you're someone who's had it perfect your entire life. I bet your father is a duke, and you're horrified at people who even have a_ _ **sip**_ _of beer before they turn eighteen._ Her expression soured, and then she looked at Leon quickly to check that he had not seen her reaction to his words, but she noticed Merlin's eyes on her. Their eyes met, and for a moment Morgana was caught. Whether Merlin approved or disapproved of her reaction to his classmate's words, she could not tell. His face was a mask… a very, very good-looking mask.

"No thank you," Uther was saying, "I think that it's best if I go back to London. I have a flight to catch early tomorrow morning." He turned back to his children, and for a moment Morgana felt sorry for him, driving all the five hours back to London and walking into their terraced three-bedroom house, now all packed up and ready to be rented—alone. But then Morgana remembered that Uther brought the solitary confinement on himself, and her sympathy instantly vanished.

Still, she let him hug her. He paused for a moment, and inhaled the smell of her hair. He kissed the top of her head. "I love you." He murmured, barely audible, even to Morgana's own ears. For another moment, Morgana was caught in the comforting smell of her father, a smell of oak and hand-soap. Arthur wouldn't hug their father, offering him his hand to shake. "I hope this is the new beginning we all need. I'll see you at Christmas—it's not far away." He said once he'd stepped away from Arthur and back towards the car. "It's already the start of November. You'll like New York City, I'm sure of it. I love you both, be good, don't drink, don't smoke weed, don't smoke anything else… I'll see you soon. I love you."

If she'd been able to, Morgana would have happily stood rooted to the spot, watching her father drive away, ready to move out of the house she'd known all her life and away from the city she'd been born in, but Arthur was already turned back towards their bags, most of which Leon and Merlin had already picked up. Morgana grabbed her satchel and followed them through into the looming school. They walked quickly through an ornate wood-panelled corridor, before crossing through some double doors into the grandest Great Hall Morgana had ever seen.

The floor was black and quite marble tile, and it seemed to stretch endlessly from beneath her feet—at one end of the hall—to the ornate wood panelling on the other end. There was a fireplace that would have dwarfed even her six foot three father. Four rows of eight windows along the left side of the hall let in grey light from the day. The basic engraved panelling stopped at the top of the lower row of windows, and between the lower and upper windows were paintings on the wood panelling, paintings that looked very old indeed. On the opposite wall of the hall there was more wood panelling and portraits of men in Elizabethan (or was it Jacobean?) attire. Where the wood panelling ended there were great tapestries showing scenes of hunts long since ended. There was a balcony overlooking the hall, that itself also engraved by a skilled hand. Looking up, Morgana noticed that the ceiling had not been neglected: great biblical scenes peered down at her, the colours radiant after all the centuries she was sure they had endured.

"I thought you'd like to see this," Morgana looked over at Leon, who had spoken. "This is, as you might have guessed, the Great Hall. There are events held in here—often school events, like dances or end-of-term dinners, but sometimes people hire it out for weddings. The Duchess of York's cousin got married here a few years ago. It caused quite a stir. The next event scheduled to take place here is the winter formal, which happens early next month, a week before we break off for the holidays. It is the nicest room in the building, although—as you'll see, the common spaces and the classrooms themselves aren't that bad either. If you're a fan of libraries I'll expect you'll like that. It's very peaceful."

Once Arthur and Morgana had had their fill of the Great Hall—it was truly spectacular—Leon showed them down another ornate, dark, wooden corridor and then they passed through into what Morgana could only guess was a newer, slightly renovated part of the building. The dark oak was replaced with a light-green paint, and there was a curving marble staircase, with a decidedly Georgian-style wooden banister. The floor had a red rug on it, making it appear quite regal. Morgana reached over and took Arthur's guitar case from him, so he wouldn't have to juggle that and his suitcase as they climbed it. They passed through a landing, and through a set of doors, through another oak-panelled corridor and down another set of stairs that led into what appeared to be a chapel and out into a courtyard.

Morgana was staring to wonder if they'd ever reach their destination in this maze of stairs, and this clash of times gone by, when Leon paused by a large (modern) wooden door, and produced a key. "This is the girl's wing." He explained, nodding at Morgana. He glanced across the courtyard at a nearly identical wing. "Across there is the boy's wing. Merlin, do you want to take Morgana up to her room while I show Arthur to his?"

It struck Morgana that she hadn't actually said her name to Leon, but she supposed that as rosy-cheeked Head Boy, the headmaster would have made sure he knew all he needed to know about the newcomers to make them feel "welcome". Beside her, Merlin nodded. "Yeah, alright then. See you both in a bit." Morgana looked at Arthur, feeling slightly panicked.

"I'll message you later," He said, reaching to hug her with one arm. "I'm going to need someone to get lost in this madhouse with." He smiled, and although Morgana knew it wasn't his real smile and knew he was only smiling to make her feel better, she immediately felt reassured. She smiled back as convincingly as she could, and handed him his guitar case. "Will you be OK?" Arthur asked, his brow furrowing.

He was only twenty-one minutes older than her, but he had always seemed 'older' somehow, he had always been protective of her. She made herself nod, even though she wasn't at all sure that she was telling the truth. "I'll be fine, really. I've got Merlin to show me upstairs."

After that, she followed Merlin up some drafty marble stairs and into a corridor. Along one wall were windows, which looked out onto the courtyard below and along the other were doors. This particular corridor held nine doors. Merlin stopped at the sixth, and pushed it open. "Your keys should be on the desk," He explained. "But Leon and I came up here to unlock it before you showed up. We figured you might have a lot of stuff, and we didn't want to fiddle with keys."

"Thank you."

Morgana walked past him into the room. She hadn't known what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't this. Disturbingly modern, and disturbingly small, the room held a bed that looked like it was attached to the wall, and a desk, which ran from across from the bed to the wardrobe, which was also built into the wall. Morgana put down her things, and opened a door by the wardrobe. It was then that she discovered that she had her own en-suite. A wet-room, mostly, the cupboard-sized bathroom held a toilet, a sink, and had a railing that ran along half of it so that the shower portion could be cut off as required. She looked back at Merlin, who lingered in the doorway.

"You're a Year Thirteen too, aren't you?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I'll be in your classes, if you're taking my subjects. There's a pretty finite group of people for each subject. What are you doing?"

"Classical Civilisation, History and Chemistry. I dropped Economics last year."

Merlin's face lit up at the last one. "Oh, I do Chemistry. I applied to do it at university, actually. I've already gotten offers from University College London, Sheffield and Leeds… I applied to York—the proper university, not the Saint John one in the city—and Bangor too, but they're taking their sweet time replying. It's a proper nightmare. I think if I can though, I'll go to York. I hear they have a lot of ducks there."

"The minster is lovely," Morgana offered, but having been to York just once on a family trip when she was eight, she couldn't think of much more to say. "You said they had ducks?"

Merlin nodded. "Yeah, when it was built they made this huge man-made lake. It attracted all sorts of waterfowl. Ducks, mostly. But I've heard that there's a fair amount of geese on the new campus—they have a new campus, too. Heslington East, I think it's called—anyway, it's where they keep the Computer Science department and things like that. The university campus itself is absolutely hideous—it looks like something from a communist paradise, but the city is so lovely. It's all cobbled and old. There's no sense to the layout, though, because it was built so long ago. It's an awfully nice city, though—" Merlin cut himself off, "Sorry. I'm a bit York-obsessed at the moment. It's really hard looking at UCAS for days on end, seeing nothing but 'The University of York is considering your application'—just answer it already! Arrgh. Have you applied to university?"

Morgana nodded, and then shook her head. "Yeah, it got sent off early because my dad decided to move me and my brother here. I applied to do History of Art, but not at York, though." She paused, "I applied to Nottingham, Bath, Keele, Warwick and Cambridge, actually. That's another reason it got sent off early, I applied to Cambridge."

She hadn't actually told any of her friends at home this, and it felt weird saying it out loud. But Rothcastor Academy was far more elite than any other school she had ever attended, she imagined she wasn't the only person who had applied to Oxbridge. Merlin didn't sneer the way her home friends would, his eyes widened and he said, "Whoa, that's pretty impressive. What's their usual offer?"

"Er, A* AA, I think." Morgana knew for a fact that this was the entry requirement, and also it was what she was predicted. She did not tell Merlin either of these things. "What are the entry requirements for York?"

"Oh wow, good luck with that. And um, I think it ranges from A*AA to AAB depending on how good they think you are. Or how hungry the geese are. The hungrier the geese are, the more Fresher's the admissions team will provide, or that's what my cousin thinks. He's been studying there for two years already." Merlin shrugged, "I got AABC last year, so hopefully I can scrape AAB at the very least. Do you need help unpacking?"

Morgana looked down at her scant belongings, and fought the urge to laugh. "No, thank you." She replied, "I think I can manage."

"Okay, I really don't mind if you want me to help, though." Merlin insisted, and when Morgana made no move to reply he added, "Alright, well, dinner's at six but it'll be a buffet—it's still half-term. Leon'll probably come up and get you. I would, but I'll be home then… I'm a day-student, you see." He added, seeing her confused face. "He's not, he's from down near Shrewsbury—if you know it, I don't—but he spent half-term here to study. He just dragged me out today to come and help move you and Arthur in." Merlin smiled, his eyes twinkling again.

"But you're not Scottish,"

"My mum is," Merlin explained, "She's from around here… and after my dad died, she moved us back up here. Well, awhile after my dad died. I was just a baby then, but we stayed in England for a long time. Long enough for me to get the accent I never lost."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, my mother—" What had her mother done, exactly? Not _died_ , that was for sure. "It must have been very hard on you."

Merlin shrugged. "Meh, I was just a baby. My mom's remarried now anyway, his name's Stephan and he's nice enough. Bores me sometimes, but he takes care of her, and that's what's really important."

"That's very nice." Morgana felt like saying more, felt like telling this total stranger the entire story of why she and Arthur were here, but she said nothing. She smiled. "Thank you for helping me with my things."

"Hey, no worries." Merlin smiled. "I'll catch you later. Oh—and," He rummaged around in his jeans pocket, producing a small, ripped slip of paper. He handed it to Morgana, "Here's my mobile number. I know that Leon can be a bit of a twat, so if you need help with anything just text me."

"Thank you," Morgana was genuinely touched. "I'll try not to disturb the rest of your holiday, but I appreciate it."

"Eh, I don't mind if you do. It's pretty boring up here without everyone around. Most of my friends were in the year above, and headed off to university last month anyway. I wouldn't mind being disturbed." His eyes twinkled, and suddenly Morgana wasn't sure if he was being flirty or not. "Anyway, I'll leave you be. Have a nice afternoon."

"Thank you."

Merlin left, and suddenly Morgana was left feeling very alone. She closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. First, she unpacked her bedding and made her bed. Then, figuring that her clothes could wait until later, she walked over to her desk and picked up the papers that had been left on it. There were rules, a dress code and instructions for connecting to the Internet. Morgana discarded the first two and focused on the Internet. It took a few tries, but eventually she managed to log in with the username and password that had been sent to her in a welcome pack a few days before.

Once online, she immediately pulled up her favourite social networking site, and logged in. She had four messages—three from her friends at home, asking her how it was, and one from Arthur. She replied to the three friends, and then turned to Arthur's message:

 **Arthur Pendragon  
Sent 16:21**

 _Are you sure you're okay? I didn't want to embarrass you in front of Merlin and Leon. You didn't really look okay. Do you want me to come over?_

Again, Morgana was touched at how much Arthur cared. But she knew that he was just as hurt as she was, but he showed it differently. He didn't need to be worrying about her on top of his own worries. Things sucked for both of them. Ignoring the increasing feel of isolation: Merlin had left her (of course, she could have gotten him to stay, but that was beside the point) and she knew no one in Scotland, let alone in the school. She closed her eyes, letting her chest clench and unclench, before she typed a message back to her brother.

 **Morgana Pendragon  
Sent 16:32**

 _I'm okay. Just thinking about everything that's happened. I unpacked my duvet. I'm glad the Internet is as fast as it is— I was worried about it._

He replied immediately.

 **Arthur Pendragon  
Sent 16:32**

 _OK. Tell me if you want me to come over. And I know, right? This place is so medieval. The mobile reception is terrible. Do you think they've blocked "adult" sites on this network?_

 **Morgana Pendragon  
Sent 16:33**

 _Arthur, ew._

 **Arthur Pendragon  
Sent 16:34**

 _HAHA, I'm just kidding. I think the Internet might be fast enough for me to play LoL, though. That's a plus. Some of the guys are online right now. Do you mind if I go play it?_

'LoL', shorthand for 'League of Legends', was an online role-player game that Arthur was completely obsessed with. It was also a game that Morgana knew more about than she ever had wanted to, thanks to Arthur. She rolled her eyes, but knew that the escape into virtual reality was one that would distract Arthur from their reality. After a moment, she typed back—

 **Morgana Pendragon  
Sent 16:36**

 _That's absolutely fine. :-) Remember though that dinner's at six. I don't know what kind of food we're allowed to have in our rooms, and starving at boarding school would be absolutely pathetic._

 **Arthur Pendragon**

 **Sent 16:36**

 _Are you sure you don't want me to come over? And OK, duly noted._

 **Morgana Pendragon  
Sent 16:36**

 _Arthur, I'll be fine, honestly. I was thinking of exploring the village, actually. I need some alone time, and fresh air._

 **Arthur Pendragon**

 **Sent 16:36**

 _OK. Be careful (of what, I'm not sure—naked Scots? There's literally nothing out there.) Call me if you need me. Love you._

Morgana bristled a little. Was it really fair of her brother to make fun of all Scottish people when what was really bothering him was the fact that their father was a prick? Regardless, she ignored the jibe and replied in turn:

 **Morgana Pendragon**

 **Sent 16:37**

 _Love you, too._

Morgana watched as Arthur's 'online' status turned invisible. She knew that he had notifications on his phone, and if she messaged him he'd stop League of Legends and answer immediately, but she didn't want to bother him. She couldn't bother him. He'd been such a rock since their mother had left… and now she felt like it was his turn to grieve. But as the minutes ticked by, and as she stared at her screen, her isolation just grew to the point of suffocation. It was only five o'clock now, she had an hour before dinner—how would she spend it? Sixty minutes seemed like a lifetime.

She could unpack, she supposed. Put everything in its proper place, take a shower, and maybe change clothes. Or… and she stole a glance at the window as she let the thought fully form, or, she could do what she'd told Arthur she was going to do, and take a walk. Explore the village. Merlin had said there wasn't much out there, but she knew that sixth formers were allowed to leave the premises as much as they wanted, so long as they signed out. Merlin had pointed the sign out book to her at the end of the corridor on their way in. She could totally leave for an hour.

Feeling a little bit more in control, Morgana hopped up and dug through her bag until she found her Doc Martens and some woolly socks—it was much colder in Scotland in October than it was in London, bare feet and flats would not do. She kicked her flats under her desk, and pulled on the socks and then laced up her Docs, tucking the leg of her jeans into them. Digging in her satchel, she grabbed a fiver—she didn't think she'd need it, but seventeen years in London had taught her that having some money on her was never a _bad_ idea—and her phone. She'd tossed her coat onto the bed while she'd been searching for the Docs, and she put it on now, pulling the hood over her mass of dark hair. She went out into the (abandoned) corridor, and out a side door. She walked around the side of the building, getting lost twice, until she was once again on the gravel drive.

She looked back at the building, now glowing in the twilight—it looked warm, and almost welcoming. For a moment, she felt uneasy about her decision, but she had come this far already. Pushing her hands deep into the oversized pockets on her coat, she headed up the drive and into the stormy Scottish countryside.


End file.
